


the brand

by deansmultitudes



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Canon Universe, Dad!Dean, Gen, Scars, Season/Series 07
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-10-04
Updated: 2020-10-04
Packaged: 2021-03-07 22:00:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26824792
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/deansmultitudes/pseuds/deansmultitudes
Summary: Emma doesn't hate the scar on her wrist. She just wishes it wasn't there.
Relationships: Emma (Supernatural: Slice Girls) & Dean Winchester
Comments: 8
Kudos: 51





	the brand

**Author's Note:**

> Written for Suptober 2020 prompt #4 'Branded'
> 
> Beta'd by [fangirlingtodeath513](http://archiveofourown.org/users/fangirlingtodeath513) ♥

Emma picks at the stray thread on the hem of her sleeve. It’s getting a little too hot for long sleeves but she doesn’t care. As long as it covers the ugly scar. It’s been months but she still remembers the pain of a red-hot rod searing her skin.

None of the other girls flinched, but she wasn’t brave enough. In the end, she wasn’t sure what was worse, the pain or the stench.

Now all that’s left is a reminder of who she used to be. Of who she was supposed to be. A warrior. An Amazon.

A killer.

Instead, she’s a traitor. She traded her kind for a comfortable life, her training for a pile of books, her sisterhood for a father and his little family.

Dean says it was a cult. That it’s not what being an amazon used to be about. That there was no honor in what they did, no virtue. That the only life Emma ever knew was built on fear. Too afraid to fade away, the amazons made that deal, turned themselves into monsters.

It was supposed to be just one kill. She was only gonna kill one man, her father. Dean. And she’d get to remain among her own. They’d teach her what she needed to know and help her build a good life, keep her line alive.

If she did just that, there would be no jackasses from the town, grabbing her wrist like she’s a pet animal not a person, staring at her scar like it’s a circus show. No one would dare do that to someone like her.

The two boys wouldn’t let her go, though she pleaded, which was humiliating enough. She almost snapped both of their necks. If Dean didn’t step in, she would have.

“Teens are assholes,” Dean says now, sitting at the table opposite of her.

She bites her tongue before telling Dean to leave her alone. Knowing him, he just might.

Hunched over the table, she crosses her arms, keeps her wrist close to her chest.

“I would have handled it.”

“Oh, I know.” If he’s trying to hold back a smirk, he’s doing a poor job of it. Then more somber, he adds, “There’s nothing shameful about scars.”

“I’m not ashamed.” It’s not a lie. At least, she wasn’t until today. But now, she’s not sure how she feels about it. Mainly, she just wishes it wasn’t there. Then, she could pretend she’s human and that she fits in here. “Besides, it’s not a scar. It’s a brand. Scars come from battles.”

“Sure they do,” Dean says, lifting his palm and pointing to a faint line on his thumb. “Lost battle with a smashed wine glass.” Then he pulls up his sleeve: the flat, pink-ish scar on the side of his forearm looks fresh. A week old, in fact. Emma remembers the imaginative string of swear words she heard all the way in her room. “The great defeat at the hand of Chicken Alfredo.”

Emma lets out a chuckle. “Oh, yeah, that was a devastating defeat.”

“Hey! It wasn’t that bad.” Dean makes that offended face of his but the wrinkles around his eyes give him away.

“I’m three months old and even I know it didn’t taste right.”

“Touché.”

Dean sure knows how to lighten the atmosphere. Her anger and the weird kind of sadness she’d never felt before dissipate, at least for a while. She lets out a sigh and lifts up her sleeve, revealing the stupid three-legged stickman of a scar. The brand.

“Can’t really blame this on a skillet.”

“May I?” Dean reaches out across the table, but doesn’t touch her, just waits.

Emma bites her lip. Dean’s the only person in the whole world she can trust. He hasn’t given her a reason not to. But he’s seen the scar, he’s seen its shape in his old, hunter books and he’s seen it on her wrist when it was still a fresh, tender wound. The night she came to kill him, Emma used it on him as a weapon.

Whatever he plans to do, he’s not gonna hurt her. She lays her hand on his palm, wrist up. He wraps his fingers around it and brings it closer.

“See,” Dean says, pulling something out of his pocket, “brands don’t mean anything if you don’t give them the power to.”

It looks like a bunch of tangled leather cords, at first. Dean wraps it around her wrist and ties the loose ends tightly over the scar. It covers it almost completely.

The leather cords are pleated neatly into a wide bracelet. A few imperfections tell her it wasn’t store-bought—when would Dean even have time for shopping?

“Those were all the cords I could find,” Dean explains. “I’m gonna buy you a nicer one.”

Emma brings her wrist closer, slides her thumb across the weaved pattern. A little quick adjusting and no one who doesn’t know where to look would ever find her scar.

“You made it?”

“Yeah, I just“—he wiggles his fingers—”tried to make it hold together.”

“It’s awesome,” Emma decides and it must be exactly what Dean hoped to hear because it brings a huge smile on his face. “Thank you.”

The brand is still there, and it’ll stay with her for the rest of her life. But she gets to choose who sees it and she gets to choose what it means to her—not the amazons, not the bullies. Not even Dean. Only her.  
  


**Author's Note:**

> Kudos and comments always very much appreciated!
> 
> Find this story on [tumblr](https://deansmultitudes.tumblr.com/post/631088556208750592/the-brand-emma-dean-t-09k-written-for)


End file.
